Bidding on the Bodyguard Read online

  “Yeah.” Masking all emotion, he crossed his arms behind his head and arched an eyebrow. “You should. Just go.”

  Staring at the ceiling, he listened to the shower water. The varied sound patterns told him where the droplets struck her body, patterns he longed to trace with his mouth and tongue. He clenched his fists.

  A war waged in his chest.

  Did he ask again, because she hadn’t answered? Did he stay silent? Did he hang on to something amazing, if she didn’t feel the same? Why the hell did she want to work in Ireland, so far away from him? Were they done?

  They were done. What else could he assume?

  Pissed off, he seized her laptop tossed it across the bed, away from him. He had no more reason to be there. He started dressing.

  A buzz on her nightstand lit up her phone. He saw the name Therese come onto the screen. It went to voicemail, but the caller immediately redialed, and her phone lit up again. And again. And again.

  Normally, he’d never invade Emma’s privacy. In his current mood, he was angry and didn’t care. “Hello,” he answered tersely.

  A squeal came from the line. “Ah…is this Shane?”

  “Yes. Your friend is in the shower and wants nothing to do with me. You should call back and leave a message, so I can leave—”

  The squeal became a strangled tone, and he worried the woman on the other end needed CPR. “No, wait! Shane?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

  “I’m Therese. I was with Emma the night of the auction at the winery, the night you met. You two are meant for each other.” She huffed like she couldn’t get enough air. “Shane.”

  Concerned, he said, “I’m here, Therese. Take some deep breaths. Nothing is worth passing out over.”

  Unless it was last night when he’d made love to Emma. He would give his last breath for a repeat of that hot, intense, amazing sex. Nothing would ever compare. His shoulders tightened.

  “I’m taking…the stairs…so I don’t lose reception in the elevator.” Through the phone came heavy breathing, as if she was scaling Mount Everest. “Are you there?”

  He traced the patterned stitches on Emma’s bedspread. “I’m here.”

  “Shane, whatever you do, don’t give up on Emma. Please, hang on.”

  Alert, Shane questioned, “Why? She would take Ireland over me. And if that’s what she’s always wanted, I won’t be the roadblock standing in her way. I appreciate your words, Therese. I’m just not sure there’s much left to hang on to.”

  “She may give you that impression, but it’s not true. I work with her every day, and we talk all the time. She fantasizes about you—don’t take that the wrong way, she’s a nice, normal girl. A girl with a gigantic crush on you.”

  Shane relaxed, venturing a smile. “The feeling is mutual.” His smile faded. “But I can’t tell her that.”

  “No, you’re right. You can’t tell her that now, but I know she’ll figure it out. Listen, there’s an email I sent her about her dream job. There’s an opportunity overseas, but there’s also one in Denver.”

  Shane’s heart stopped. “Denver?”

  “I think she’s worried you’re not the real deal, that you won’t be there for her. You must understand how many people have abandoned her. She doesn’t trust easily.”

  A spear point nicked his heart, bleeding into a pool of compassion and renewed hope. “I get that.”

  “Let her know you’ll stand by her if she chooses Denver. She loves you, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

  He swallowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” Background shuffling noises. “Emma can take plenty of vacation, she has loads of it, she just needs a reason. I told her about the Denver opportunity. I think you two should be together.”

  “Thank you,” Shane said, honoring this insight from Emma’s dear friend, a stranger to him.

  “Thank me when I’m her maid of honor and you’re getting married on a beach somewhere, okay?”

  Shane chuckled. “Okay.”

  “That’s what I’d hoped you’d say.” The calm smile in the woman’s tone offered Shane a measure of relief.

  “Don’t scare her. Just…nudge her a little. I gotta go.”

  “Thanks, Therese.”

  “You’re welcome, honey,” she said with a syrupy southern accent.

  When the call ended, he set Emma’s phone back on her nightstand. He’d had no business answering her cell. That alone should prove him unworthy, though he meant nothing offensive by it. However, the conversation with Emma’s best friend proved enlightening. He’d take good advice from whatever direction it came.

  He sat at the edge of her mattress until Emma exited the shower wrapped in a towel. He couldn’t help the smile that settled inside him, seeing her that way, wanting to tear off the towel and throw her onto the bed and make love to her again like they had last night. A nervous look stole into her eyes as she scooted past him into her closet.

  Hurt, though he didn’t show it, he said, “You should never uncomfortable around me.”

  “I don’t, how could I?” she asked flippantly, as if telling him she would always want her eggs over easy.

  Turning his head to the side, he let her casualness pass over him instead of hitting him like a barbed-wire fence. As Therese had instructed, he didn’t take it personally. Instead, he asked, “Can I stay here for a couple of hours? If you don’t mind,” he added. “I could use a few hours of sleep and a shower.”

  He watched her hesitate, before she anxiously considered the idea of his presence in her home while she left for work. Then her anxiety collapsed into compassion.

  She sat beside him. “I’m sorry. I was selfish, unthinking.” She blushed. “I don’t mean to be. I’m a good person, I’m not—”

  He kissed her lips, his palms framing her face. “You’re a beautiful person. You couldn’t be mean or uncaring if you tried.”

  When liquid emotion lined her lashes, she pulled her glance away from his.

  He brought her face parallel to his, until their eyes met. “I’m not here to make your life complicated, Emma. I just want to be part of it. If you’ll let me.

  He gathered her hands in his, squeezing tight. She didn’t respond.

  “If you don’t want that, I’ll leave and never contact you again.” Forgetting the shower and any chance at sleep, he dressed and stood with his overnight bag in hand. “I don’t want to love someone who doesn’t care.”

  “Wait.” Her voice quavered, filled with endearment. “I care,” she whispered.

  In her open doorway, he paused. “But do you love? Because I love you, Emma.” He gave his confession a moment to sink in for her, and himself, startled he’d finally shared what was in his heart. He refused to take it back or make excuses for his true feelings.

  Her lips parted, but she didn’t reply. He hadn’t expected her to, and hope drifted away like an abandoned balloon.

  “The day you decide you want love,” he said, “I’ll travel across the country a thousand times for you. In the middle of the night.” Deep emotion accompanied his final words. “Just because I need to see your face.”

  Emma noticed Therese had called her four times, but she figured they’d talk when she reached the office. Her friend immediately commented on the glow in her cheeks, the dreamy look in her eyes. Chest tight, Emma admitted Shane had traveled through the night to show up on her doorstep and surprise her.

  Therese sent her a knowing smile. “Sounds like a man in love.”

  Emma said no more, because Shane had admitted as much before he left. And she had stood there in silence, mouth gaping like a fish on a hook, unsure if she wanted to be caught or set free to return to the comfortable waters she’d always known. She could count on one finger the number of men who’d said those precious words. He hadn’t stuck around, and she couldn’t bear the thought of falling for Shane, offering him her complicated heart, only to lose him, left behind to stitch together her broken pieces again.
Her heart was as scarred as her back, and what man wanted that?

  Shane wants you. He said he loves you.

  He’d proved it by coming all the way to the east coast to spend two hours with her. He’d proved it when he’d vowed he would do it a thousand times if she asked him to, because she saw the truth in his eyes and believed him. The way he’d made love to her proved it, too.

  Do you love him? she asked herself.

  The answer was a whisper of truth surrounded by a flood of objections that drowned out the quiet knowing. She wasn’t ready to hear that whisper.

  Chapter Eleven

  AN APPOINTMENT LATER that week with Mae lifted all of Emma’s objections to the surface. They sifted through them together during the hour-long session, like miners digging and then panning for gold, shaking muddy layers of doubt through the mesh sieve of contemplation. Emma walked away with a few nuggets of wisdom that stayed with her.

  During the following week of self-reflection, she collected the golden feelings and gradually discarded the worthless pebbles that stood in the way of giving a relationship with Shane a chance. Throughout the week she’d attended three taekwondo classes, relating her gradual progress to the baby steps she could take with Shane.

  If he was patient with her, allowing her trust to unfold, could they have a chance at something special? Something real, worth trying for, because she’d never felt this way about anyone else, and knew deep down she never would?

  Familiar with being alone, she was shocked to realize how deeply she missed him. After a month of nonstop communication, he hadn’t texted or called once since he left her apartment. Neither had she, so she recognized if they had a shot, if she wanted to take this chance, the bow and arrow rested in her hands.

  Instead of reaching out to Shane, she chose a route Mae had recommended in the why not category of options. It can’t hurt, right?

  Palms sweating, heart pounding, she took a deep breath before she clicked send on the email directed to the HR department of the bank’s Denver location. If she landed the management position—if—she would consider transferring.

  She wasn’t ready to pick up and move her life for a man, the way her mother had discarded her own daughter for some guy she’d just met. Even if that man dedicated every word and action to convincing her he believed she was the strongest, most beautiful woman on earth. Even if he made love to her so fiercely the embers of his passion haunted her dreams. Even if he made her laugh every time they talked. Even if he was obscenely gorgeous, with dreamy silver-blue eyes—and a body that women would pay untold sums to see at their bachelorette parties.

  If. If. If.

  But…but…but…

  “Excuses,” Therese told her coolly, refusing to entertain them. Her friend sat firmly entrenched in Camp Shane, leaving Emma dismal, dwelling in her misgivings by herself.

  Another week passed, with no word from Shane except a single text at 3:00 a.m. one morning. I’m here for you, Emma. I always will be, when you’re ready to go all in.

  She’d sent him a flurry of responses, texting him that she missed him, asking how he was doing. The resounding silence made his point. The only text he would respond to, evidently, was the one she wasn’t yet prepared to send.

  However, the day after his early morning text, she heard back from Denver HR. They were impressed with her credentials, wanted to arrange a phone interview, and would she be willing to fly to Denver to have a follow-up interview in person?

  A swirling tug in her abdomen made her wonder if the Universe was in Camp Shane, too. Nervous, but willing, she agreed to their request.

  That evening, she headed to the Mermaid Winery after work. She sat alone, sipping a glass of the house special, remembering the night she’d met Shane. His confidence had impressed her. His smile had mesmerized her. His honor and integrity had set him apart.

  How could a harmless bid, an incredible man and one remarkable weekend have left her forever changed? She wouldn’t take it back, she thought with a wistful smile, anguish squeezing her heart. She would do it all over again without a single regret.

  Did that mean she should listen to the quiet, gentle promptings of her heart, instead of her booming, aggressive doubts? She left a generous tip and drove home.

  Nightfall shrouded the parking lot in thick shadows. She opened her glove compartment and retrieved the whistle and mace Shane had given her the last day of their weekend. He’d bought the items before he’d picked her up that Friday morning, after he had learned she’d been mugged.

  With a soft sigh of appreciation, she climbed out of her car. She checked her phone. No word from him. Her heart compressed as though trapped in a vice.

  Strange sounds came from her left. Her head snapped up. She peered through the dark.

  In slow-motion horror, she watched three men with hoods covering their faces ambush a woman walking across the lot. The woman’s muffled cries brought back harrowing memories.

  Without thinking, Emma ran toward them. She blew her whistle and gripped the mace. “Get away from her,” she shrieked.

  The attackers were caught off guard. One fled. The second tried to wrench the woman’s purse. The third whirled and rushed Emma.

  Shane’s self-defense instructions pulsed through her mind, as adrenaline flooded her veins. She flicked the cap and sprayed the oncoming man in the face.

  Howling, he cursed and grabbed her. Her body responded with practiced movements. She pressed her hand against her fist and used leverage to nail her elbow into his ribs. When he doubled over, the backs of her knuckles slammed into his face. She reared her leg up and kicked his knee with all her might.

  Holding his nose, he stumbled back. Foamy tears leaked from his eyes. He flung curses at her as he hobbled off in the direction his partners in crime had fled.

  Gulping in air, Emma dialed 911 and demanded help at their address. Within seconds, she heard sirens.

  The woman who’d been attacked sank onto the nearby curb, clutching her purse, tears streaming down her cheeks. Emma sat down beside her and put her arm around her. “I know how you feel.” Shaken, yet drawing from a well of inner strength, she assured, “You’re okay. It’s going to be all right.”

  The police arrived with lights blazing, blue and red swirling around the blacktop, reflecting off windows in the building where faces peered out to investigate the commotion. Emma stayed to give her statement and explain her account of events.

  “She saved me,” the victim told the officers, pointing to Emma, an admission that filled her with pride and relief. Emma went on to explain the damage she’d inflicted, should someone admit himself to a hospital with similar injuries.

  “You did what most people don’t—or can’t—in the face of violence toward a stranger,” the younger officer said. “You did well. We found a knife nearby. You might’ve saved that woman’s life.”

  While she appreciated his praise, frustration flared in Emma. “It had better hold fingerprints so you can trace to the attackers,” she said. “Because three men pulled a knife on me, same MO, three months ago in our parking lot. This has got to stop.”

  With a sober nod, the older officer said, “We’ll talk to the apartment manager tomorrow and see what we can do about security here.”

  “Thank you,” she said, somewhat vindicated.

  On unsteady legs, Emma entered the building. Numb, she pressed the button in the elevator, barely aware of opening her door and locking the dead bolt behind her.

  The adrenaline leaked out of her with every step. She collapsed onto a kitchen chair, set her arms on the table and sobbed. Memories of her own ordeal came up for release. She breathed through the remembered terror, like Mae had taught her, and let go of the fear until the tears dried.

  Determination settled into her bones. She glanced up at the ceiling. “Okay, Universe. It’s come full circle. Everything really did happen for a reason, including Shane.” Especially Shane.

  Was too late to accept the gift he had offered
in outstretched hands, if only she’d been brave enough to take it? Bravery was made of building blocks, confidence stacking up to produce a dependable structure on a reliable foundation that, once tested, proved unshakeable.

  Love was carved from the same essentials, built on a similar foundation—and it had just proven undeniable. Worthy of trust, worthy of the ultimate decision she hadn’t found the courage to make before now.

  Standing with her phone in her hand, she went to call Shane. She wanted to tell him everything that had happened, how he’d helped save her and another woman. She wanted to tell him she’d been wrong to deny what she knew in her heart, and to tell him she loved him.

  She paused.

  First, she called her boss’s office line and left a message saying she needed to take a vacation day. Next, she Googled the company Shane worked for in Denver. Soaring Security Bodyguards, or something?

  Ah, Soren Security Bodyguards. She glanced at her watch. Was 6:00 pm Mountain Time too late to reach a receptionist?

  “Thank you for calling Soren Security Bodyguards. How may I direct your call?”

  “I’m not sure.” She asked, “Is Shane Duncan in your directory?”

  She heard typing. “I’m sorry, we don’t have that name assigned to a phone line.”

  “What about his boss? Is there a…I don’t know, a bodyguard assignment department? Can I speak to the manager there?”

  A long pause. “Slone Rowan is the manager. One moment, I’ll connect you.”

  Emma blew out a sigh of relief. She reasoned if Shane had come all that way in the middle of the night to surprise her, maybe she could prove her dedication by applying the same principle.

  “Slone Rowan,” a curt voice answered.

  “Hi, um, does Shane Duncan work for you?”

  “Can I ask who’s calling?”

  “This is Emma. Emma Stallings.”

  “Hello, Emma. How can I help you?” His tone had thawed like an ice cub dropped into a glass of warm scotch.

  “I’m sure this is probably breaching ten protocols, and I’m sorry, but is there any way you can tell me when Shane is scheduled to work next?”